


Everybody's Runnin' and No One Makes a Move

by Lady_Ganesh



Series: Welcome to Miami [8]
Category: Saiyuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Saiyuki Miami-verse, Developing Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: It's very hot. Vidal's tired. Kane makes an offer.(Hwan is also in this story but not for very long, so I didn't tag for her. Also: did you know there's no 'back on my bullshit' tag?)
Relationships: Genjo Sanzo/Son Goku
Series: Welcome to Miami [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/62149
Kudos: 9
Collections: Saiyuki Miami Multiverse





	Everybody's Runnin' and No One Makes a Move

Vidal had spent a year and a half in California, back in another life, when he thought maybe he could be someone other than who he was. The weather had been perfect, dry and sunny, not the miserable Florida humidity that was making his lounge chair stick to his thighs. Days like this, he thought about going back. He should've put a towel down. Too late now. He'd just feel like he was peeling his whole skin off when he got up. He didn't want to get up yet, anyway. Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd rain.

Maybe he'd see Kane. He hadn't been around much lately. Working, he knew, but Vidal still missed him. Missed his mouth.

He was at half-mast, thinking about jerking off, when he heard the car. Not Kane or anyone else he recognized. The flag was down. No one swung out here unless they wanted to get out of shit or start shit, so Vidal slipped the brass knuckles on and stayed in place, on his stomach, eyes closed. Two men, nothing he couldn't handle. They were walking slow and steady. Maybe they didn't want to start shit.

Yeah, right. Maybe they were giving him his Publishers Clearing House check.

"Get him up," one of the men said. Vidal didn't recognize the voice.

"I wouldn't," he said, without moving, but that was enough to stop the person closest to him. "Flag's down. I'm not working."

"We want information," the first man said.

Vidal weighed a few answers. "I don't know what you're coming to me for, then."

"Look," the second voice said, the closer one, another man. "You made somebody disappear for us. We just need to know where she is. That's all."

"That's not how I work," Vidal said, and decided it was past time he sat up. He unstuck his thighs from the chair--it hurt like a motherfucker, as he'd predicted--and swung around so he was facing Guy #1. He didn't recognize his face, either. "People pay me to make people disappear. Not to bring them back when they change their minds." He felt the weight of the knuckles against his thigh. "I don't even know who you are, anyway."

"Hit him," Guy #1 said to Guy #2, and Vidal turned his head just in time for the guy to clip his jaw. 

It hurt, but not as much as Guy #2 had wanted it to. "Not really making your case here," he said. "You wanna tell me who you are?"

"No," Guy #1 said, digging into his jacket. He threw an envelope into Vidal's lap and pulled a pistol out afterward. "Read."

Vidal tossed it back. "It doesn't matter. Magicians don't repeat a trick. Ruins the whole act. No take backs."

The guy lifted his gun, which was a fucking stupid thing to do, because Vidal was already pissed between his sunbathing getting interrupted and not getting laid, and so Guy #1 got the brass knuckles in the teeth. Vidal heard the _crunch_ and grinned as he grabbed the gun and spun away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" he asked, holding the piece steady on the second guy while the first one, now on his knees, spat out blood. "They didn't warn you about me?"

"They said you were fucking a cop," Guy #2 said. 

"We're in Miami," he said. "It's fuck or get fucked. What's your point? Did they think that made me soft or something?"

"We figured you might want to keep him alive," Guy #1 said.

Oh, _fuck_ no. "You gonna go back to your bosses and tell them I'm never working for you again? 'Cause that's what you're looking at."

"You're not holding the cards here," Guy #1 said from the ground, and Vidal kicked him in the gut, automatically. 

"I am going to break every bone in your body if you don't shut up right now." He kept his gaze on Guy #2. "You go back and tell your fucking bosses that if I ever see either of you again, I'm not just never working for you again, I'm going to look back and think about what bodies I might want to dig up. And you better hope nothing bad happens to anyone I talk to. Never mind who I'm screwing. I'm talking about the people at the gas station. The post office." He kicked Guy #1 again for emphasis. "And this gun's mine now. I don't play games."

"We tried to be reasonable with you," Guy #2 said, because he was the kind of moron who stuck with the script even after the stage was in flames.

"Go fuck yourself," Vidal said. "Get out of here."

"You'll--"

"Don't even think about threatening me or anyone else. Just go, before I have to tell the people at the country club I'm taking up skeet shooting."

Guy #2 swallowed, like he was ready to clear his throat, but he seemed to finally get the hint. He and his asshole friend scrambled off. Good fucking riddance.

Once the noise from the car had faded, Vidal tucked the gun into his waistband and headed into the trailer, taking the envelope with him. He turned the radio up loud, out of habit. Fenris lifted his head from where he'd been sleeping on the couch.

"No thanks to you," he told him. If he'd actually sounded stressed, Fenris would've been howling at the door. He was smart that way. But he also liked napping, especially in the past couple weeks; Vidal thought it was maybe a growth spurt.

He closed the curtains and opened the envelope at the kitchen table. He recognized the name, remembered who he'd been working for. She wouldn't be easy to find, not that they ever were, but she'd been some of his better work. On top of that, she'd been talking plastic surgery when he left her. He went over to the sink and set the whole thing on fire, waving the smoke around in hopes he wouldn't set off the detector.

He heard another car come in while the last of the ashes were burning out. Sure. Why the fuck not. He might as well put the flag up, the way his day was going.

"Why the fuck is the music so loud?" Kane asked, when he opened the door. "And what the fuck did you burn?"

"Don't even ask," he said, and fumbled to turn off the radio. He'd thrown the gun into a drawer after he'd pulled out the bullets, and those were stuck with the brass knuckles in the back pocket of his shorts. As long as Kane didn't start feeling him up, he'd be fine. Fucking a cop was too much trouble. Not that he was about to stop. "What's going on?"

"Same bullshit as always," Kane said. "You letting me in, or--?"

Vidal let him in. Vidal would always let him in, and he fucking knew it, and the worst thing was he didn't even feel bad about it. Sure it was risky and stupid, but he made people disappear for a living, and it wasn't like half of Miami was in bed with the cops, one way or another. He didn't want Kane getting hurt, but there was no way to control that, either. "You working?"

He shook his head. He had a thin black t-shirt on and jeans that were faded and tight. Kane always looked good, but out of uniform he looked younger, more delicate. Not that he was, but Vidal liked the way it looked on him. Pretty as silk and hard as steel. "Not on until Monday night."

It was Thursday. "Long weekend?"

He shrugged. "Have to start taking vacation days or I lose 'em." His lips pressed together. "You're not working."

Vidal shook his head. 

"I got a tent," he said. "If you want, we could go somewhere. Take the dog."

Fuck. It would've been a nicer invitation before those assholes showed up at his door and he had to take care of the fallout. It was still probably the most romantic shit anyone had ever said to him. "You leaving tonight?"

Shrug. "I can go tomorrow, if that works better."

"Let me--there's shit I gotta take care of. If I can, I'll go. If that works."

"Sure," he said. "I'll swing by in the morning on my way out."

"Okay," he said, and his dick was reminding him of what he'd been thinking of earlier, and Kane was here and wasn't working, so he swung his arms around Kane's neck and got his tongue in Kane's mouth. 

He let Kane hold him against the back of the door and fuck him, slow and easy. It was too hot for anything fast or frantic. They crashed on the couch after. Vidal poured half a beer into Kane's Hill Street Blues mug and drank the rest while they watched Wheel of Fortune. 

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" Kane asked, during the last commercial.

"It's fine."

"That why you have bullets and your brass knuckles in your cutoffs?"

That was just insulting. "You went through my shit while I was in the head?"

Kane shrugged. "Don't tell me you haven't gone through mine."

Vidal bumped Kane's foot. "Had to have your badge number in case I wanted to make a complaint."

"You haven't complained yet," Kane said, and that was so smug Vidal bit his ear.

After the last puzzle, Fenris whined for a walk, so they took him out. Kane took off after that.

It was about sunset when the third car came, and Vidal was about the fuck done with people showing up at the trailer at that point. He opened the door anyway. Maybe he just wanted a fight.

It was Aisha Robins, right hand of the Piccinos. Looked like a warm pan of milk, and ready to burn half the city down if it would help her boss. "Good evening," she said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but we wanted to apologize in person for the...unpleasantness earlier. Mr. Alexander was unfamiliar with the...unique nature of your business."

"He threatened me," Vidal said. "I think you know how I feel about that."

"We're well aware," she said. "That's why I'm here to apologize. We are, of course, willing to provide compensation, but we would like Mr. Alexander's weapon back."

He leaned against the doorway. "Sentimental value?"

"Not precisely," she said. "If anyone searched your home while it was there, it might end badly for everyone."

Fucking great, there was a murder weapon in his trailer. "I don't ever want to see Mr. Alexander's face again."

She nodded, like that went without saying, and waited for him to continue.

"I'm going to go away for a couple of days. If anyone asks before I get back, I'm working for you, understand? You don't know where I am. If you see anyone asking, you shut them up."

"Of course."

"And if anyone, _anyone,_ makes another threat--if they threaten the fucking _gators in my yard_ \--I'm never hiding a single person for you again. And you'll be lucky if some of the bodies you've buried don't start coming back up, understand?"

Another nod. "And we'd like to offer you a bit of compensation, of course." She reached into her purse. "Consider it traveling money."

She reached into her bag for her wallet; she got out a dog bone, too. He let her count out bills. Why not? It was the least they owed him. 

"Yeah, that's enough," he said, when the stack was big enough. "You can give Fenrir the bone, if you want." It's not like he was worth shit as protection anyway, a bribe from her wasn't going to make much difference.

"I'm not really a dog person," she said. "But I'll take the weapon."

"You wait out here," he said, taking the bone from her and shutting the door in her face. He made a half-hearted show of moving around the trailer before he pulled the gun out of the kitchen drawer. He wiped it clean in front of her, and she held her purse open so he could drop it in. 

"Thank you again for your understanding," Aisha said, and zipped it closed. "I trust the next time we meet it will be under better terms."

"You'd better hope so," he said. He didn't like threatening people, but sometimes you had to make your point clear.

After she drove away, he threw some shit in a bag--he'd never been camping in his life, so it was mostly just guessing and clean underwear--and got a cooler out for his beer. He found some plastic bowls that would work for Fenris and put some of his food in a big Country Crock container and called it good enough.

Kane pulled up in a truck. "This isn't yours," Vidal said.

"Fuck no," Kane said. "I'm not buying a fucking truck. Ready?"

"Yeah." He swung his bag over his shoulder. "Fenris, you coming?"

Fenris barked with excitement; he fucking loved riding in the back. Vidal helped him into the bed--his legs and his ambition hadn't caught up with each other, yet--and noticed there was a box back there for Fenris to lay down on. 

"Where are we going?"

"Close to the Everglades," he said. "Where we don't know fucking anyone. There's a lake there, it's decent fishing, usually."

"Sounds good to me," Kane said. He'd never fished but going somewhere you could sounded pretty good. "I don't have a sleeping bag or any of that shit, is that--"

"I brought mine, we're fine," he said. "You ever put up a tent?"

"Never."

"Just do what I tell you," he said, as Vidal slid into the seat next to him. "Or try to, anyway."

"Very funny." He was hung up on the thought of sleeping next to Kane for a couple of nights. "I brought beer."

Kane flashed him a look--not a smile, really, just a lightness there--and that made up for all the other shit. "You ready?"

Vidal waved his hand at the road, and they got on with it.


End file.
